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Monochrome
The sea of people roaming the streets of Rodion will part as the Decepticon known as Deadlock strides purposefully down the street, dragging flameo behind him by the hand. He's walking quickly, heading for the local dive--after all the shenanigans earlier, the mech needs a drink, and preferably a strong one. "Out of my way," he growls gruffly at any passerbys who stare or lollygag at the two of them as they approach the joint. Hot Rod's list of questions stretches all the way back to Nyon, but each one is swallowed back almost as soon as it's formed. It leaves him in a rare silence -- or near-silence, anyway -- as he hastens after Drift. (Totally Drift.) His grip is tight, as though he fears it's the only thing holding memories in place. "Well, at least you're still charming," he says with a laugh. He glances after one particularly offended-looking bystander with a grin, then ducks after his friend into the dive. "Scrap bars are so reassuringly universal." Deadlock sighs. "As are you," he says, ordering whatever's on the house. He makes Hot Rod sit down and plops down in the booth across from him. A pause. "Okay, I have three words for you. WHAT. THE. HELL." He stands up, for effect. "/You/ have three words for /me/?" Hot Rod reaches across the table to push at Drift, but he lacks the leverage or the angle to actually push him back down into his seat. He just kind of nudges a suggestion. "Are you kidding me? Drift! What's going on?" "You should have been HELPING me kidnap that.. that Autobot!" Deadlock grumbles at Hot Rod, stepping out of the booth, arms folded. "And stop calling me that. Deadlock. It's Deadlock now," he says sourly. "Okay. Deadlock." Hot Rod says it uncertainly and watches ... Deadlock with a note of reserved wariness. "Chromia's a good one. She's been training me, training all of us, actually. She's not really an Autobot. She's a Camien. None of them really buy into Senate or anything, Drift," he says. Calling him 'Deadlock' is clearly a work in progress. "They aren't enemies. They should be allies." Deadlock whirls on Hot Rod. "She's not /really/ an Autobot? Well I think her /badge/ says otherwise. Training you? All of you?! What the hell, Rod, why would you even trust her?! She works for the government! They should be allies, what a load of slag!" He scowls, arms still folded. "I trust her because of Nautica. I don't know if they are amica endura or what, but they are definitely close. Chromia was ready to tear the Senate apart when Nautica was taken by the Institute." Hot Rod turns his hands up in an imploring gesture. "Come on, she's okay. If she's got a badge, that just means she might be able to hear things I can't. If the Autobots were going to ever move on Nyon, maybe I get a warning." "/Also/ an Autobot," Deadlock grumbles, clenching his fists, "if I remember correctly." Hey, his memory is coming back! |> "Yeah, /right/," he said irritably, "if you had any wits about you, you'd realize they were /all/ filth." "I thought you didn't like Autobots! What makes you so adamantly convinced that she's on our side?!" Suddenly, his expression falls, and his arms unfold. "PRIMUS. I.. get it now. It all makes sense. I.. I knew it!" He turns away, pouting. "It's because you guys must be a lot more than just 'friends'. Hmph!" He refuses to look at Hot Rod. "Actually, Nautica's with me, now," says Hot Rod. "She -- I don't know if she resigned or ... she's not an Autobot. She was. She couldn't be, not after the Institute. She's been helping me get stuff going in Nyon. She knows like -- everything." His eyes are wide, and he sounds impressed despite himself. Watching Deadlock, Hot Rod shifts to reach out for his arm. "Hey, Drift. Come on. Sometimes I think Chromia's mostly in it because she gets a chance to hit me with that stick of hers, but I really think she's got her spark in the right place. I hate the Senate, but not all of the Autobots are bad. There's Chromia, Pax, Arcee, Jazz, /Ratchet/. That doesn't make me hate the Senate any less. They aren't the same thing." Deadlock jerks his arm away from Hot Rod, looking disgusted. "Oh so it isn't just her? Nautica too?" He looks exasperated. "Look at you. Getting all attached to Autobot femmes, because I'm not around!" He scowls. "I can't believe you would even try to replace what's between us for shaky romances with pretty females who work for the government!" "You're such a hot mess," he says, "but now that we're together again, I'm going to set you straight, straighter than a pin." He turns around, and sits down in the booth across from Hot Rod. Yes, other mechs over hearing their conversations are giving them uncomfortable stares, but CLEARLY they don't understand the nature of bro hood. "First things first. You have to help me take her to the Forge so she can be questioned by the Decepticons. Just pretend that I kidnapped you, and she'll cooperate. It won't be all that bad, they'll just ask her some things about how to take the government down and then they'll set her free. And then, I get promoted." He looks excited at the prospect of this. Hot Rod makes the biggest 'what' face in the world. On the entire planet of Cybertron, there is not a single mech or femme or otherwise identifying individual who looks more confused, more baffled. "What do you mean, /Nautica too/?" When he catches up, he buries his face in his hands and cycles a long vent through his systems on a laughing groan. "Oh, Primus, I'm not chasing after them. Chromia would beat me with her stick and Nautica would take me apart with her wrench. They're /helping/." Hands sliding to curl beneath his chin, Hot Rod leans on his elbows and regards Deadlock with a lingering smile. He settles all too readily into old patterns of friendliness. "Yeah, I'm just glad you've got your head straight." Clearly together they are more straight than when apart. The smile fades a little, and he repeats, "Like I said, she's helping. And she's a friend. If she wants to visit the Decepticons, then I'll go with her, help keep her from any, uh, misunderstandings. But she's not really one of the Autobots. Not like -- I don't know, Prowl. She's an outsider, just like us. She doesn't know what you want. Why do you want to get promoted, anyway?" "...yeah, right," Deadlock says, arching a jealous brow ridge at Hot Rod. He folds his arms, and with a sigh says, "but now that I'm here, that's all going to change, I'm going to fix that. I'm going to fix everything." He frowns. "It doesn't matter if she wants to go or not. This isn't a choice. Stop saying she isn't really an Autobot, you either are or are not. She must know something, and even if she doesn't, we can ransom her so that the Autobots who do will give us something in return for her freedom." He makes a face. "Because. Getting bossed around sucks." Surely Hot Rod can relate. Hot Rod /can/ relate. His smile widens right back to a grin. "See, that's why not answering to anyone is the way to go. What's with all this Decepticon stuff, anyway? You never talked about them before you got hurt. Not to mention going by Deadlock. It's just not as simple as you want to make it sound." His smile fades into uncertainty. "And I owe Chromia. I can't let you do that. She doesn't deserve it." "Yeah, but I don't like getting punished," Deadlock says, optics glowing crimson, "that sucks equally. And I joined the Decepticons because they are moving towards getting rid of the Senate the right /way/. The way that shows them with a fierce hand that they will not tame us." He clenches a fist. "It is simple, Rod. Everything is black and white. You are either against the government, and for the Decepticons, or you an Autobot and you are against them." He grumbles. "Oh come on! It won't even be that bad! She'll be locked up for a little and we can even break her out once my promotion is in place. She can just tell them a few things, nothing drastic, then she's free to go. Now that's what I call /simple/." "And what about the people?" Hot Rod asks. "What about everyone stuck in between?" The uncertainty shades toward unease, and the easy friendliness of his body language cools into something a little more reserved. His smile is tentative. "What about her, Drift? Come on, you can't just think about your promotion. Think big picture. You can't hurt someone just because it /might/ help you." "Those for us will be spared, and those against us will be crushed," he says, his expression hardening. "There /is/ no in between." Deadlock shakes his helm. "Don't call me that!" he snaps. "Hold up a nano-klik, how often do you even think about the 'big picture'?" He gives Hot Rod an exasperated look. "She doesn't even have to get hurt, if she cooperates and gives us information, no one has to get hurt. The Decepticons need it too. Even if it isn't much. Every little bit counts." He folds his arms jealously. "I must not mean very much to you anymore then, if suddenly she's taking precedence. Not attached to her, pft! Yeah /right/. As if. Did you even /miss/ me?" He looks away again. "You can't just--." Hot Rod breaks off and studies Deadlock with dismay. "What happened to you and me, and making Cybertron a better place, huh? I don't remember talking about killing half the planet to get there. Did I miss you? Are you kidding? I was worried /sick/. I thought you were going to /die/. I thought you /did/ die. Then I tried to find out what really happened to you and you stared through me like you didn't even know me. Now you do, maybe, you remember me, but it's like the real you isn't even there at all." His words spill out, impossible to hold back -- faster, and louder, and more and more obviously upset as he goes on. "Chromia's not your enemy, but if you do that, you make her one. You make Nautica your enemy. That doesn't help anyone, Drift!" "Yes, they are! They /all/ are!" he roars. He stands up, fists clenched in anger. An uncomfortable silence ensues, as Deadlock absorbs everything Hot Rod is saying to him. After a moment, he finally says, slowly. "But you're not. And I don't want you to be. Ever." He grabs Hot Rod's arm and pulls him into a MANLY embrace. "... I missed you too." Hot Rod stiffens when Deadlock shouts, and mirrors his rise with wary tension. He stands poised to defend himself if need be, but his hands lie open at his side rather than clench in anger. Through the silence, he studies him. When Deadlock speaks again, Hot Rod's shoulders slump. Relief sheets over his expression like water. His grip is tight, maybe a little desperate, as he returns the embrace. He tucks his head against Deadlock's so that he can very quietly admit, without the words carrying far, "I don't want to lose you again. I don't want you to look at me--" He draws back to meet Deadlock's gaze with a searching study. "--and not know who I am. I've had enough friends turn on me. You still want that better Cybertron, right? Better future?" "Me either," Deadlock says mournfully, finally releasing Hot Rod after a moment, "you've been the only unwavering constant in my life since Gasket died." His helm extensions sag a little, and he averts his optics. "Of course, but everything is different now. There's this guy, Bombshell. He saved my life and I owe him. He asked me to do this, and there aren't really any other Autobots to kidnap that /aren't/ on the list you mentioned before. At least ones who are actually.. kidnappable. I /have/ to do this. And if you can't help me, well, then I'll just have to do it alone." He turns away, as if ready to leave. "Not her," says Hot Rod. His words are quiet, and while there's a lot more he could add -- he doesn't. He doesn't bother to repeat what he's already made obvious: that he'll defend Chromia from Deadlock as readily as he'd defend Deadlock from Chromia. "Hey -- wait." He reaches for Deadlock, stilling his turn. "What about Pharma? He deserves it, /and/ he knows /plenty/." And Hot Rod just might have a serious hate for him at the moment, but shh, he's totally thinking of the bigger picture. Deadlock looks puzzled. "I don't know who Pharma is," he says arching a brow ridge at Hot Rod. "But the more they know, the harder they will be to kidnap," Deadlock says, frowning, "so I just need someone who knows a little and won't cause a giant fuss from the public and the government," he says, optics narrowing. "He's a jerk!" Hot Rod puts forth a solid, convincing argument. His logic is unassailable. "Just not Chromia. Or Nautica, who isn't even an Autobot anymore, by the way! If promotion is really that important, you'll get it. I'm sure of it. There's no way anyone could fail to recognize your potential." Deadlock just gives Hot Rod a pained look. "Okay, whatever, but that doesn't help me at all. If I don't kidnap Chromia then who? Arcee? Jazz? The point is that there aren't any Autobots I can take hostage that you won't make a fuss about." He sighs, sounding tired. "There isn't really any lesser evil here..." "Come on, we'll think of something," says Hot Rod with an elbow to Deadlock's side to jostle him from his sigh. "Look, maybe not kidnapping, but something! And if you need my help -- you know, and it doesn't hurt people," he adds with a quick smile, because ha ha, that would never happen, right? Hurting people. Nooo. "Kidnapping doesn't hurt!" Deadlock insists,"that's what I was saying before, it doesn't hurt as long as the hostage cooperates. And it can be fast. Roddy, please, just this once and I promise they won't hurt her. Maybe they'll give her a few dents and scratches but nothing serious, okay? Just.. help me." He stares wide opticked at Hot Rod, his expression pleading. "I still think it should be Pharma," Hot Rod mutters, then throws his hands up in an exasperated gesture. "Okay." He clarifies, "I mean -- I'll talk to her. About it. Not go kidnap her. Because it's not kidnapping, not really, but maybe she'll agree to help, and if you bring her to them, you'll get ... credit or whatever, right?" "What caste is he?" Deadlock asks, sounding skeptical. "No, because then it won't seem like I really did anything other than blab diplomacy. We don't have to do any real kidnapping, we just have to stage it like it is. She just has act like she went against her own will because of you," Deadlock says, "and then once she gets there and the Decepticons get the information they want and I get my promotion, she can leave, relatively unscathed." Hot Rod looks doubtful. "This sounds like a terrible plan." And he should know. All of his plans are terrible. Who better to recognize one? "There's no guarantee that they leaves unscathed, especially if the rest of them aren't in on it, and they think she's really an Autobot? What's /wrong/ with diplomacy?" Even as he says it, he looks vaguely disgusted with himself. Diplomacy. Ergh. "Oh like you ever cared about whether a plan was terrible or not!" Deadlock scoffs at Hot Rod. "It'll be fine, as long she tells them enough information and cooperates. They won't beat her up if she does what they want. It won't be bad, I promise! Trust me, okay? You trust me, right?" Hot Rod's disgust is noted and approved of. Diplomacy, who ever got an award for that? Certainly not Hot Rod or Deadlock. "I care about whether or not a plan might get a friend of mine hurt, though!" Hot Rod rubs at his face and reluctantly says, "Yeah, I trust you. I do. But you get what I said? She's not really one of the bad Autobots. She really isn't." "She won't I told you! As long as she cooperates!" Deadlock grumbles. "I promise. I don't really care whether you think she's bad or good, she must know something that will help the Decepticons and help me get a promotion, and that's all that matters!" He scowls, folding his arms. "Are you sure she's just a 'friend'? Because you seem awfully concerned about her.." Hot Rod folds his arms right back. His unease, his guilt at even thinking about it, makes him prickly and sharp. "What do you mean, that's all that matters? Primus, Drift, that's an awful thing to say when you want her to take a major risk like that. I don't know about this. And yes! She's a friend! There's nothing 'just' about it. She's a friend, and I value that. Of course I'm concerned about her. Look what happened to /you/." "Hmph," Deadlock mutters jealously, "I'm not just any old friend either.." He grumbles. "Well what do you know about being a Decepticon? Uh, /nothing/, it isn't a big risk. Besides, you'll never get anywhere in life if you don't take big risks, the Decepticons are going to overthrow the Senate, don't you want /that/? And I already promised she won't get hurt. I'm personally going to help you make sure she doesn't get too beat up!" "I'll talk to her," Hot Rod promises again, but he doesn't look happy about it. "--wait, what do you mean /too/ beat up? Why does she have to get beat up at all?" "I'm saying, I can't promise she won't get a few scratches or dents! But that'll be as far as it goes," Deadlock says, holding up both hands innocently. "Come on, you trust me, right? And I'm saying it'll be fine." Hot Rod is quiet a moment. Then he says, "No." After a brief pause, he shakes his head. "No, I can't. It was a bad idea to begin with." Deadlock steps back. "Then you must not trust me. And if you can't help me, well, then. Fine. I'll do it alone. I have to pay off my debts, Rod. I /have/ to do this. If not Chromia, then it will be someone else. It is going to happen, whether you like it or not, and if you don't want to help me, that's your problem, not mine. Clearly, you're confused about which loyalties are worth investing in, and hopefully one day, you'll change your mind." He turns and starts walking out of the bar. "What /happened/ to you?" Hot Rod calls after Deadlock, his voice rising sharp in frustration. He doesn't stamp his foot, but it's a near thing. "No, what happened to /you/? There are two sides, Rod. Deepticon and Autobot. One of these days, everyone will be one of those two and wear badges to mirror their inner desires. I don't know what would possess you to trust an Autobot. I only know this : that I can't, and never will. The Autobots must be destroyed before they destroy Cybertron. That's all." He turns away bitterly. "Goodbye Hot Rod. Don't try to stop me. You won't. I won't hesitate to treat you like an Autobot if you side with one." "But--." Words failing him, Hot Rod can only stand there as Deadlock turns away. His hands slowly curl at his side and his expression sets in stubborn denial. Deadlock spares Hot Rod a grieved and pained look just before he leaves, but finally turns and looks away, shaking his helm as he exits the joint.